Wily and Proud
by AfroAriel
Summary: Rusty is a stray cat-starving, desperate, and weak. His dreams of a better life seem to come true when he is thrust into the world of ShadowClan. While he learns the ways of the "wily and proud" through hunting and fighting, Rusty still feels as if something is not right. What will he do when the mysterious Tigerclaw visits the ShadowClan camp with dark promises of grandeur?
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

All was quiet except for the rustling leaves of the trees and the quiet squeaking of small creatures as they skittered among the bushes. Time passed, and the shadows lengthened in the hollow as the moon rose and shone brightly, an emissary of celestial light. The wind continued to breathe softly as it travelled through the dark sky, on its way to places far beyond the reach of the hollow, farther than the reach of the entire forest. With the twitch of a tiny chipmunk's ear, the rustling of a patch of grass, and the flap of a pigeon's wing, the forest continued its quiet dance.

A mouse raised its head with a jerk, pausing on its mission to search for nuts or tiny scraps to eat. Was that a rumbling noise that it heard in the distance? Perhaps it was the far away rumble of a monster on the path nearby… But no, the noise wasn't approaching the hollow from that direction. The noise grew louder and louder, and with a twitch of its whiskers and a couple beats of its nervous heart, the mouse skittered away.

With a noise like a thunderstorm in the middle of Greenleaf, the cats arrived at the hollow. In the lead was a gray she-cat who paused at the top. She turned her head to gaze around the area. _Fourtrees_, Bluestar thought, inwardly sighing. _With Brokenstar acting more assertive and aggressive each day, I worry for this Gathering. _Sensing the growing tension and excitement in the cats behind her, she flexed her muscled shoulders and leapt into the clearing. She could feel the wind rushing against her fur, and at her flank she could sense the cats of Thunderclan as they pounded along behind her.

By the time they reached the hollow, Bluestar was able to scent Windclan and Riverclan arriving. In almost no time at all, it seemed, the previously empty and quiet hollow was brimming with cats. The air filled with the sounds of three Clans mewing about what had happened over the last moon. Almost before she was able to scent them, Shadowclan appeared, with a dark brown tabby tom in the lead. His amber eyes glinted for a moment as he stood at the top of the hollow and gathered his clan around him. Then with a flick of his tail they streamed down and joined the rest of the clans.

Nodding to her deputy, Lionheart, Bluestar leapt up onto the Great Rock, turned to face the sprawl of cats below her, and settled down to wait. She gazed up at the dark sky. A few wispy clouds covered a couple shining warriors of Starclan, and above them hung the brilliant white moon. _The moon is beautiful tonight_, Bluestar thought to herself. _Perhaps it can see itself reflected in the many pairs of bright eyes below me._ _Hopefully it is a sign that this night will bring a peaceful and friendly Gathering_. As Brokenstar, the leader of Shadowclan, leapt up beside her with an air of triumph, Bluestar's initial feelings of insecurity escalated to the beginning of full-on fear. She forced her hackles down as Crookedstar and Tallstar joined her at the top of the Great Rock.

As the four leaders waited for the mutterings in the clearing to die down, Bluestar's gaze fell upon a cat she didn't recognize from previous Gatherings. He was young and small, no older than an apprentice, and he sat among the shadows of a few scattered bushes between two Shadowclan cats who she recognized as Russetfur and Darkpaw. The latter had been announced as a new apprentice at the last Gathering. Her eyes continued to wander across the clearing until the young cat who she hadn't recognized stepped forward out of the shadows into a shaft of moonlight. Immediately, she focused her gaze back on him. He had a bright ginger pelt that flickered like fire as he continued to pad toward the Great Rock, his friends by his side. He finally came to a stop nearer to the Great Rock in the shadow of one of the four great oaks that surrounded the clearing, and his pelt immediately lost the illusion of flame. Heart beating, Bluestar realized that her vision of fire in the pelt of the young cat could only have come from Starclan. _But that would mean…_ The she-cat shuffled her paws and shivered, thinking back to the day a couple moons ago when her medicine cat, Spottedleaf, had interpreted a prophecy from Starclan from the blazing trail of a shooting star: "Fire alone can save our clan." _Could this cat be the "fire" mentioned in the prophecy? But… surely a Shadowclan cat couldn't be the one to save Thunderclan? Or—_Bluestar's thoughts were abruptly halted as Brokenstar yowled, "Shadowclan is stronger than ever. We have been challenged on each border, but have won in every battle!"

As the dark tabby continued his tirade, Bluestar felt her mind wander from thoughts about the ginger apprentice, to reflections on Spottedleaf's prophecy, to worries for the future of her clan. Eventually her eyes met Spottedleaf's from where she sat in a corner of the hollow next to Runningnose, Barkface, and Mudfur, the other medicine cats. The tortoiseshell she-cat meaningfully glanced from Bluestar to the ginger apprentice and back again. _So she has noticed something… unusual about him, as well_, Bluestar thought. The gray she-cat nodded almost imperceptibly at her medicine cat as Tallstar stepped forward to share his news from Windclan. Directly to her right, she could feel Brokenstar begin to tense up. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his hackles raise slightly and his claws slide out as he gazed at the Windclan leader. Just as quickly as she noticed the outburst of hostility, it was gone. The Shadowclan leader looked calm and composed, though his eyes still burned. Deciding that it would be unwise to question the aggressive tom about his carefully hidden anger, she turned her head back toward Spottedleaf. The two she-cats would have a lot to discuss when they returned to camp.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Rusty's paws pounded on the ground, keeping in rhythm to his heartbeat. His ginger fur was fluffed out and covered in dirty water from the Thunderpath, but he did not have time to stop and groom. They were almost upon him-he could feel it. He could hear the sounds of their yowling bounce between the walls of the alleyway from behind him. He winced as he splashed into yet another puddle full of dark water. He quickly shook his head to get some of the liquid out of his eyes. _I hope they're not catching up to m—_Rusty ran headfirst, straight into a wall while he had been clearing his eyes. Black spots appeared in his vision. Dazed and weak from days without a filling meal or a long rest, he momentarily slumped onto the ground.

"There he is!"

"Yeah, I see him!"

"Well, what're you waiting for, fleabrain? Get him!"

At the sound of those words, Rusty forced himself to get to his paws. Looking around, his heart dropped. There was nowhere else to go; he had reached a dead end. Fear pulsing through his veins, he turned back around the way he had come. He could hear their pawsteps heading his way down the alley. If they found him, Rusty knew for sure they would kill him. He momentarily cursed himself for knowingly entering their territory. At the time, his stomach had convinced him that they wouldn't notice him if he only entered for a little bit to catch a mouse or a bird. Smudge had been right: he _was _a mousebrain for thinking his plan would work. But with his mother now gone and with Smudge and Princess to take care of, food was getting harder and harder to come by. He closed his eyes and shook himself. Now was not the time to yell at himself. He had to find a way out, otherwise… Rusty flinched. _Otherwise this will have been for nothing. My mother's death will have been for nothing._

Shaking his head, he looked around for some kind of escape route. To his left he noticed a window with a small flowerpot on the window ledge a few tail-lengths above his head. The window itself was closed, but maybe he could jump up onto the window ledge and find a place to go from there. He bunched his muscles and prepared to leap when—

"Get out of our territory, dirtface!" a cat yowled as it jumped onto Rusty's shoulders. Rusty screeched as the cat's claws dug into his back, ripping at his flesh. The weakness in Rusty's limbs overpowered his fear, and he stumbled to his side into yet another dirty puddle. The attacking cat fell off of him, not expecting Rusty's jerking movement. Rusty leaped to his paws only to find that a second cat was waiting for him. She growled, "Get up, Stinger. We have a trespasser to kill." The first cat, Stinger, got to his paws and shook his pelt out. Rusty felt both grim resignation and anger rush into his heart at the sight of them. He recognized the white she-cat. She wore a collar that was fitted with claws, teeth, and other bones collected from her victims. She was the one who had-

"No need to rush, Scratch," the tom, Stinger, purred malevolently. "This should be easy enough." The cat narrowed his eyes and snorted, "See? He's weak. You can see the ribs through his dirty pelt."

Rusty crouched down, his eyes wide. He slowly backed up into a puddle, the water cold against his paws. His two attackers snickered and slowly paced forward, as if they were stalking a piece of prey. _These cats are one of _them_, _he thought to himself. _I _am _their prey_.

Rusty shivered and stuttered, "Please don't kill me. I was just so hungry and I-" He broke off abruptly and looked to his left at the wall next to him. It took half-a-heartbeat for the two other cats to instinctively follow his gaze, and right when they looked back at Rusty he reached down to the water with his paw and splashed the cats right in the eyes. While Stinger and Scratch were busy yowling and shaking the water out of their eyes, Rusty leapt up to the windowsill above him and pawed at the window. It was useless. There was no way he'd be able to get in there, as the window was shut tight.

"You useless piece of crowfood!" roared Stinger from below. "You think you can run away from me just by jumping onto a short little window ledge?" Stinger positioned himself below the window and prepared himself to jump. "I'll turn you into dirt and feed you to the crows!"

"I don't think the crows are the ones that are gonna eat dirt today, Stinger," Rusty responded, tipping the flowerpot over the edge of the sill. There was a loud crash from below, followed by a few heartbeats of silence. Rusty slowly peeked over the edge. Stinger lay unmoving, the flowerpot shattered over his body. Scratch stood in silence next to the tom. She carefully tipped her head backwards to look up at Rusty. To the ginger tom's surprise, there was no anger or sadness in her eyes, but a hint of fear. She simply stared at him for a moment, tail flicking nervously, and then turned away. She ran back down the alleyway, hackles raised, and disappeared.

Rusty waited several heartbeats until he was sure the white she-cat had really gone. He then leapt down to the ground, landing next to the other cat's body. He could only briefly glance at him before his blood chilled and he had to look away. _I can't believe I've _killed _someone…_ Rusty heart beat nervously as he slowly came to the realization of what he'd done. He felt as if there was some kind of darkness shrouding his heart, tainting it. _Life as a stray comes with a number of hardships_, he reasoned with himself. _These hardships have changed me. This is not who I am. This is not my fault. I am an honorable cat. _Nevertheless, the white tom lay dead at Rusty's paws, its fur matted with dirt. Anger flared in the ginger tom's chest. "This only happened because _you _were trying to kill _me_," Rusty muttered, half to the dead cat and half to himself. Rusty shook himself trying to clear his head of his dark and disturbing thoughts. The dead cat lay on the ground, eyes glassy, his soul gone.

Inwardly shuddering, Rusty began stumbled back down the alley. _Just walk away, Rusty. Just walk _away, he thought to himself. Glancing up at the sky, he realized the sun was almost entirely hidden by the Twoleg dens around him. _I'll have to find prey quickly for Princess and Smudge before the sun goes down, but… _He turned back around to face the limp body. _Can I really leave him here? _Rusty could already hear the scuttling of rat claws as they approached what they would view as a nice meal. _Even one of _them _deserves a proper burial, _Rusty decided. Sadness gripped his heart as he cleared away the broken shards of the flowerpot with his paws and gripped the cat by his neck. He carried him down the alley and then slunk through the narrow streets in the direction of the forest. Rusty eventually caught sight of the first pine trees of the forest and was preparing to cross the Thunderpath to enter it when a familiar scent approached his nose.

"Smudge!" Rusty exclaimed, turning to face his black-and-white companion. Flinching at the echoes his surprised mew had made, he lowered his voice. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you," Smudge responded, his voice full of fear and exhaustion. "You need to come back. It's not worth it looking for food here-" His voice cut of as he glanced anxiously at the body of Stinger, slumped at Rusty's feet. "Is he…" His voice shook.

"I'll explain later," the ginger tom meowed urgently. "It's almost sundown, so for now, you need to race back to Princess and try to find food along the way. I'll do the same after I… after I bury this cat." Rusty suppressed a shiver.

Still glancing in alarm between Rusty and the body, Smudge stuttered, "I-I've already found s-some food; it w-was in a silvery T-Twoleg thing full of crowfood…"

"Alright." Rusty nodded assertively, trying to be brave for both of them. "Just go straight home and be careful." The ginger tom gripped the white cat's neck in his teeth and started dragging him onto the Thunderpath.

Smudge shuffled his paws nervously before gathering up the nerve to yowl, "Rusty! Wait!"

The ginger cat dropped the white cat and turned around in the middle of the Thunderpath. He managed to meow, "What is it, Sm-" before a loud rumbling noise interrupted him. Ears flattened to the noise which was quickly becoming louder, Rusty made a split-second decision to grab the dead cat by the nape and continue to run across the Thunderpath to the other side. He knew that a monster was coming—and coming fast—but the weight of the body that he was carrying was like dragging a stone: unmoving, cold, and extremely heavy. A shiny blue mass appeared out of the corner of his vision; it grew bigger almost impossibly quickly. Rusty was still a couple foxlengths away from safety. Rusty let out a fearful yowl, but it was smothered by the dead cat he was carrying. _Come on, come on, come on! _Rusty screeched in his brain as he desperately leapt forward. It was no use, as his paws met the hot ground of the Thunderpath once again. The monster's growl roared in his ears. Rusty glanced down to the broken cat at his paws. _There's no time, there's no time!_ Rusty screeched in his mind.

"Rusty! Run!" Smudge desperately screeched. "Leave the cat and run!"

The ginger tom turned his head to look at the monster. It was only a few fox-lengths away. In the few seconds that Rusty had before the monster would be upon him, time slowed as images flashed in the tom's mind. Images of Rusty snuggling into his mother, Princess and his two other siblings by his side. Images of his mother yowling to the night sky, heartbroken, as the two dead bodies of Rusty and Princess' siblings lay at her paws. Images of his mother with a gaunt, dirty pelt, but with a fiery look of determination in her eyes. Images of Rusty's pounding paws as he and Princess ran as fast as they could, away from the BloodClan cats with their glinting teeth and their stained claws; his mother started to screech—it was a cry in pain that was punctuated by her attackers' jeers and snarls. His mother's screech quickly became louder and deeper in Rusty's ears until it morphed into the monster's angry roar. Time sped up, and Rusty was back in the present. Resigned to death, Rusty crouched next to the dead cat. He shut his eyes tight and waited.

…

"Do you have bees in your brain?!"

Rusty opened his eyes and flinched at the blinding glare from the setting sun. Blinking his eyes a few more times, he groaned and got to his paws. "What happened?" he mumbled. His muscles ached and he felt exhausted. He felt the hard crunch of the Thunderpath under his paws.

Smudge frantically nudged Rusty towards the other side of the Thunderpath. "Hurry, mousebrain, or another monster will come!"

At the word "monster", Rusty's memories of what had just occurred came rushing back. His fur on end, Rusty ran almost clear into the forest, stopping with his front paws on the cool grass and his back paws on the hot, crunchy gravel. Remembering the dead cat, he looked behind him, back onto the Thunderpath. Despite its white fur having been soiled by dirt and grime, the dead cat looked completely fine. That is, as fine as a cat could be when it's dead. Rusty flicked his tail nervously.

Smudge hurried next to Rusty and started licking his ginger fur. "It was awful, Rusty," Smudge cried in between licks. "The monster just kept coming and you didn't even move! Why didn't you run? I was terrified!"

Rusty shrugged off his companion's licks and rushed back to white cat, who was still lying in the middle of the Thunderpath. Ears pulled back in fear, but still determined, Rusty gripped the cat by its neck and continued pulling him towards the forest. Despite Smudge's nervous squeaks and nervous ramblings about another monster coming, Rusty made it safely back to the edge of the forest.

"Rusty, look at me!" Smudge urged, padding up to his friend. "Why didn't you run?" he repeated, looking imploringly into Rusty's green eyes.

Rusty opened his mouth, but found that an answer didn't come. _Why didn't I leave the cat? _Rusty wondered to himself. He looked down at the cat who was once known as Stinger. _Was I trying to be a hero? Was I disturbed by the darkness that I had found within myself? Is that what made me want to convince myself that I was a hero? _He felt a sadness grip his heart. _Or was it because I didn't care about dying? Did I care so little about my pitiful life, constantly scrounging around in the dirty alleyways for any tiny bits of crowfood, that I felt I needed to escape? Or was it something else? _Rusty shook himself and turned toward his friend. "I need you to go back to Princess, now, Smudge."

Smudge nodded, but didn't move. Rusty followed the black-and-white cat's gaze to find that he was staring fearfully at the dead cat. "Who k-killed him, Rusty?" His innocent amber eyes met Rusty's green ones. Rusty's heart sunk as he realized that Smudge knew the answer to his own question. There was a moment of silence, after which Rusty dropped his gaze. A myriad of emotions filled his chest—sadness, denial, shame, fear. When Rusty looked back up, he watched as Smudge, trembling, padded away from Rusty. "Th-that may be a BloodClan cat," he whispered to Rusty, only marginally louder than the rustling leaves on the trees above them. "But k-k-killing will make you just like them." Rusty sensed sadness emanating from Smudge as he raced away, hackles raised.

Rusty watched Smudge disappear beyond the Thunderpath and into the Twolegplace before picking the dead cat back up. Remembering the gravel of the Thunderpath that was hot and hard on his paws, the soft and cool soil and damp grass of the forest was a welcome relief. The scent of the dead cat filled his nose as the dry earth covered in pine needles gave way to the squelch of marshy mud. Rusty supposed he had traveled far enough. He gently lay the cat to one side and started digging. His fur, which had already been drenched in the stagnant Twolegplace water, was matted with mud by the time the hole was finished. By the time he had patted the last bit of mud back into place, the body safely tucked inside, Rusty supposed his ginger fur was completely covered by the brown of the mud.

Resignedly, Rusty turned back the way he had come. His tail drooped as he thought about the life to which he was returning. Days spent searching for something to eat, nights spent trying to sleep in terror of _them_. Rusty couldn't remember the last time he'd been perfectly happy. His mother's presence had always been a great comfort to Rusty, his sister, Princess, and Smudge, but she was gone now. Rusty's pawsteps slowed as he took in the peaceful view of the marshy woodland around him. He longed to escape, but life in the Twolegplace was the only one he'd ever known. The leaves rustled on the trees as a calm wind swept through the area. The cold air caressed the tom's aching muscles softly, and the breeze whispered promises of relief from the heat in the forest. Perhaps he could stay here a little bit longer, just to rest. Yawning, Rusty stumbled to a halt, collapsed on his side, and closed his eyes.

Suddenly, a yowl sounded behind him. Before Rusty could jerk around, a huge weight had pounced on him from behind and flattened him to the ground. Rusty desperately tugged himself from underneath his unseen enemy. Claws raked down Rusty's side. Snarling equally out of fear and anger, Rusty leaped around and returned his enemy's jabs with his own. He was briefly surprised to see that his attacker looked even younger than Rusty, himself. The small brown tabby tom raked Rusty's face. The ginger tom, already exhausted from his day of running and digging, nearly collapsed before he rolled clumsily to his side. He reached his paws again and then leapt toward the tom. His teeth bit into the tom's neck, and he tasted blood. Screeching, the tabby scraped Rusty's side, though his paws kept slipping due to the mud that coated Rusty's fur.

"Get out of ShadowClan territory, kittypet!" the small tom snarled.

"I'm not a kittypet," Rusty panted, letting go of his attacker. The brown tom leapt back snarling. Rusty, realizing that he was quickly growing more and more exhausted, turned tail and fled, but soon stumbled and fell to his side. The ginger tom could hear pawsteps approaching, and his attacker loomed over him.

"Can you at least let me rest before you force me out?" Rusty shut his eyes, expecting the worst.

"Oh, erm, sure…" the tom responded uncomfortably. Rusty blinked in surprise at the cat's unexpected kindness. Turning is head, Rusty looked up at him, and was surprised to see a hint of gentleness in his light blue eyes. "Are… are you okay?" the tom hesitantly asked.

Rusty stuttered, "Yes, I should be fine."

The brown tom settled down facing Rusty, tilting his head out of curiosity. "You say you're not a kittypet, so… what are you exactly? A loner?"

Blinking at the sudden shift from fighting to friendly conversation, Rusty responded, "I guess you could call me that… I live in the Twolegplace in an abandoned Twoleg nest with a couple other cats." Rusty stopped himself before he said anything more that could put him or his friends in danger. _I don't know if I can trust this cat, after all_.

The brown tom nodded. "I'm Littlepaw by the way. I'm an apprentice Shadowclan warrior," he added, sheepishly ducking his head. Rusty couldn't tell whether he was embarrassed about it or trying to hide his pride.

"Shadowclan…" Rusty mused. "I've heard tales of cats that lived in the forest. I've never met one, though."

Littlepaw looked down at his paws. "That's… probably a good thing."

Rusty's tail twitched. "Really? Then I'm guessing they're a lot like the other 'Clan' I've met."

"You've met another clan?" Littlepaw asked. "But I thought you said you've never met a forest cat before?"

"BloodClan doesn't live in the forest," Rusty responded solemnly. "They live near me, in the Twolegplace. Actually, I had a… _meeting_ with a couple of their members just today."

Littlepaw's blue eyes widened, but he didn't ask Rusty about what he meant, for which Rusty was thankful. "I've never heard of BloodClan," the small tabby responded. "I only know of the four clans in the forest. ShadowClan, RiverClan, WindClan, and Th-" Littlepaw stopped speaking as he was interrupted by a noise in the brambles behind him. His head jerked to alertness and his ears flicked up. "You need to go. Now."

Rusty stumbled to his paws, hackles raising. "What's going on?"

Littlepaw pushed Rusty backward with his nose. "Hurry!" he mewed urgently. Suddenly, two cats emerged through the trees behind him.

"What's going on here?!" snarled a dark brown tabby tom.

Littlepaw crouched fearfully to the ground, hackles raised. "Brokenstar!" he exclaimed, eyes wide.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Rusty's ears flattened against his head as he crouched down, his heart skipping a beat. The ginger tom could see Littlepaw cowering fearfully in the corner of his vision as the two dark brown cats loomed above him, snarling and spitting. They were huge, nearly twice as big as Rusty, and their pelts were covered in battle scars.

"Well, Littlepaw," growled one of the huge toms. He looked as if he had more scars covering his body than fur. "Would you care to answer your leader's question? What are you doing here with this mangy kittypet?"

Rusty looked over to his new friend. The small tom swallowed, looked toward the larger of the two wild cats, and mewed, "I was just… patrolling the border, Brokenstar." Littlepaw bowed his head submissively.

The cat to whom Littlepaw had referred as "Brokenstar" tilted his large head; his glaring amber eyes glinted like unsheathed claws in the moonlight, primed to slice and scrape and tear. "Patrolling the border?" His voice reminded Rusty of the calm rumbling of thunderclouds before a lightning storm erupted violently in the sky. "By yourself? When you've barely been an apprentice for one moon?" At this, Brokenstar's voice almost seemed to purr, as if amused. But Rusty could hear the venom that coated the tabby's words.

"I'm so sorry, Brokenstar, it's just that—I, uh—I…" Littlepaw flicked his tail nervously. "I found an intruder in our territory!" Littlepaw nodded toward Rusty, glancing at the two older cats for approval.

"Obviously," Brokenstar responded, his voice still dripping with venom. "Now, Clawface," Brokenstar turned toward his companion, "this would be a good training opportunity for your apprentice." The battle-scarred brown tom, Clawface, smirked. "I can teach young Littlepaw what ShadowClan cats do to trespassing _kittypets_." Brokenstar spat out the last word as he unsheathed his enormous claws.

Fur fluffing up, Rusty shook his head and began stumbling backwards. "Please, no, please, I didn't know…" Rusty's frantic mewing slowly grew louder into a screech as Brokenstar led Littlepaw to Rusty. The large tabby's eyes burned, while Littlepaw's were full of barely-concealed fear.

"Go ahead," Brokenstar said in that terrifying purr-growl. "Go ahead and run, little kittypet. I'm no WindClan cat, but I can't deny that I sometimes _love _to chase my prey."

Fur on end, Rusty turned tail and ran, his paws squelching in the muddy ground. Almost immediately, he found himself tangled in a bramble. The ginger tom yowled and tugged his way out. The thorns scraped along his pelt, leaving him with stinging wounds. Feeling weak, Rusty remembered that he had already escaped death once that day. His leg muscles burned and his tail whipped side to side in the biting, chilly wind. Rusty realized that he had never felt more alive.

"Is that really the best you can do?" jeered Brokenstar. With a start, Rusty realized that the giant tabby was easily keeping pace with him, his thickly-furred legs pumping back and forth effortlessly. Rusty felt as if the icy wind had entered his blood stream. Trying to force his weary legs to rush faster, the ginger tom turned his head back in front of him, only to find that a fallen log blocked his vision. Almost instinctively, Rusty leapt up and scrambled to get a grip on the mossy bark. Easily jumping to the top of the log, Brokenstar sat patiently as Rusty finally scrambled up beside him, only to slip and fall to the swampy mud on the opposite side.

The mud-splattered ginger tom found that he was so exhausted that he could not get to his paws. He closed his eyes as the pain of a full day's worth of running and digging and leaping returned. Rusty's lungs felt as if they were on fire, and he breathed heavily. His ears flicked at the sound of Brokenstar leaping down from the log to the earth next to him. The tabby was later joined by Littlepaw and the brown tom, Clawface. Rusty felt two massive paws slam down on his back, claws unsheathed, which was followed by the feeling of hot breath on Rusty's neck.

"Now, watch closely, Littlepaw, as I…" Brokenstar paused, breathing in deeply. Rusty, his eyes still closed, wondered what had caused the tabby to stop right before killing him. Brokenstar breathed in again and then pushed his cold, wet nose into Rusty's neck, taking a couple small sniffs. The giant cat began to chuckle, pulling back from Rusty's neck. "Well, well. I must admit, I'm surprised." Rusty carefully opened his eyes and barely managed to turn his head wonderingly at the three wild cats.

Brokenstar flicked his tail at Littlepaw, gesturing for the much younger cat to come forward. Reluctantly, he obeyed, his blue eyes turned toward the ground. Brokenstar then turned toward the other large tom. "Now, Clawface, if you wouldn't mind me conducting another training exercise for your apprentice."

Clawface crouched down to the ground, calmly deferring to his leader. His eyes sparkled with both curiosity and maliciousness.

"So, Littlepaw," Brokenstar rumbled. "This will be a short assessment to see how well you've developed your sense of smell," he continued smoothly. "Go ahead and sniff around." Brokenstar nodded towards Rusty, who still felt as if he were paralyzed with exhaustion. Littlepaw padded forward and met Rusty's gaze apologetically. He took a couple hesitant sniffs over Rusty's dirty, matted fur.

"I smell…" Littlepaw paused, thinking. "I smell dirt… and, er… leaves on his fur."

Brokenstar rolled his eyes. "You could've found that out just by looking at him, frog-brain," he growled. "Smell further, _deeper_. Press your nose right into his fur." Littlepaw obeyed, and Rusty's neck felt cool where the small tom inhaled little breaths of air into his nose.

"Did you smell it?" Brokenstar urged, gazing into Littlepaw's eyes excitedly.

Littlepaw kneaded his tiny brown paws into the ground uncomfortably. "I'm not sure." Clawface leaned forward, wondering what could possibly have Brokenstar so excited.

"Deeper than the scent of mud, of grime, of blood," began the tabby, "there is a little bit of… something else." The tom purred the last two words. "Beneath all of that, I expect you caught a hint of it. Something that seems just on the brink of smelling rotten. Littlepaw," he nodded at the young cat, his steady amber gaze never leaving the nervous blue, "I expect it conjured up images of a piece of crowfood, with just a hint of something sweet, like a rose. Perhaps it conjured up the image of three kits playing a dangerous game in a clearing—but perhaps you were too young to remember that. Either way, I'm sure it's a smell that will become familiar to you as our Clan expands its borders." Rusty's heart skipped a beat once again as he realized where the tabby was going with this. Drawing himself up menacingly for the big reveal, Brokenstar purred, "That, Littlepaw, is the smell of a dead cat."

Littlepaw gasped and drew back from Rusty immediately. "You... killed someone?" he mewed. It was as much a question as it was a statement. Echoing Smudge's actions from earlier that day, Littlepaw shivered.

"Don't be such a mouse-heart!" Brokenstar snapped. While the large tabby continued to harass the young cat, Rusty felt small droplets of strength trickle back into his muscles after his short rest. The ginger tom was able to get to his paws before Brokenstar turned back with an air of excitement surrounding him.

Clawface padded over to his leader's shoulder and hesitantly asked, "What do you think, Brokenstar?"

The tabby sat back on his haunches and gazed greedily at Rusty. "I think that ShadowClan could always use more warriors in its quest for more territory. I know that we are two apprentices down, in light of Mosspaw's death about a moon ago, as well as Volepaw's death shortly afterwards."

Rusty swallowed, afraid of what Brokenstar was suggesting, but, at the very least, thankful for his life. "You… want me to join your Clan?"

Clawface spat. "Do we really want a _kittypet_ to live with our warriors, Brokenstar?"

Brokenstar looked sharply at the brown tom. "_My _warriors, Clawface."

Brokenstar opened his mouth to continue before Rusty interrupted him, saying, "I'm _not_ a kittypet." Littlepaw shook his head warningly at Rusty from behind the two older cats. Rusty flicked his tail, nonplussed, as if to say, "at least I'm not getting killed."

"Well, that settles it, then," Brokenstar mewed triumphantly. "This young cat, er—what's your name?"

"Rusty."

"This young cat, Rusty, will begin training as a ShadowClan apprentice immediately." Brokenstar beckoned Rusty forward with a flick of his tail. Rusty noticed with wonder that the tabby's dark brown tail was bent in the middle.

"W-wait. Don't I get time to go back home and think it over?" Rusty mewed, thinking about Princess and Smudge.

Brokenstar's amber eyes darkened. "Why do you think you would get that?" he growled.

Rusty almost mentioned Princess and Smudge back in the Twolegplace before realizing that he didn't want this dangerous, crazed cat to have any knowledge of the two cats he was closest to. "I… need to settle some things," Rusty mewed vaguely. If these cats allowed him to return now, he may be able to hide from them forever among the dark shadows of the maze of alleys within the Twolegplace.

Unfortunately, Brokenstar seemed to have the same idea, as he growled, "No. You come with us. Now." Rusty glanced down at Brokenstar's claws as they slowly unsheathed, and the ginger tom nervously realized what the alternative to his apprenticeship was.

The four cats started their journey towards the ShadowClan camp with Brokenstar in the lead, followed by Rusty with Littlepaw at his side. Clawface took the rear, occasionally nudging Rusty forcefully with his head to get him to move faster. The ginger tom was sick and tired of the dampness of the muddy earth beneath his feet, having become accustomed to the dry, flat, and hard ground of the Twolegplace. To Rusty's disgust, Brokenstar led the group through many a muddy puddle, making him wonder how he would ever get himself clean. Rusty shook himself and inwardly sighed. _At least I'm alive_, he thought to himself. At least he had that one hopeful thought to hold onto. The moon appeared in the sky above the four journeying cats, later joined by a multitude of winking stars. Rusty surveyed the black cover of night and, with a sickening jolt, was reminded of Princess and Smudge once again. His two friends seemed as far away from Rusty as the moon. _I'm entering a new world tonight_, he thought, unsure of how exactly to feel. Perhaps his mind was holding back his emotions, because having emotions right now would surely cause Rusty to collapse, or to try to escape and subsequently get murdered at the claws of an angry Brokenstar.

Rusty's introspective thoughts were interrupted by Littlepaw. The small tabby was muttering something that Rusty could hardly hear as his wide blue eyes gazed up at the twinkling stars above them. Straining his ears, Rusty caught a few of the words that Littlepaw seemed to be pleading to the silent and oblivious stars: "StarClan, I know you've been absent lately, but if…" Rusty didn't catch the rest of what the small tom said. Soon after the near-silent murmuring stopped and was replaced by a hollow silence.

Rusty edged closer to the small tom, their pelts nearly brushing. He inclined his head and mewed quietly, "Who's StarClan?"

Littlepaw glanced up at Rusty and then quickly looked away. "They're the spirits of our warrior ancestors," he mewed tightly. "They live up in Silverpelt." He flicked his tail to point at the swath of stars above them. He didn't meet Rusty's gaze.

A thorn of sadness pricked Rusty's heart as he realized that the small cat, who seemed like the only decent cat among the wild cats so far, thought him to be a murderer, not unlike his clanmates, Brokenstar and Clawface. Silence grew between the two young toms, and Rusty, in an effort to return to the friendly interactions they had shared before the arrival of the two older cats, tried to think of something to say. He began, "The stars look so…" What was the word Rusty was looking for? "Beautiful"? "Sparkly"?

"Far away," Littlepaw finished for him. Rusty realized with a start that the small tabby had voiced what Rusty, himself, had been thinking only a few moments ago.

Before they were able to continue with their conversation, Rusty's attention focused on a giant, ancient-looking tree that had appeared in front of the group of cats. Its wood was jagged and blackened from burns. It was covered in small scratch marks that looked like they came from apprentice-sized claws over countless moons.

"Meet the Burnt Sycamore, Crusty," announced Clawface from the back of the group.

"It's, er, 'Rusty'," the ginger tom responded awkwardly.

"This is where you and the other apprentices'll learn how to stalk and hunt things in the night," Clawface continued, pretending that he hadn't heard the younger cat speak. "Watch and learn," the tabby growled, crouching low to the ground. With a yowl that sounded almost playful, he tackled his apprentice, Littlepaw, and, claws sheathed, batted him to the ground. "I gotcha! You're crowfood, now!"

"Stop!" Littlepaw cried, rolling onto his side to get away from his mentor. He panted nervously and got back to his paws.

Clawface growled at the young cat before Brokenstar interrupted, rumbling, "Hurry up, you three. I want to return to camp as soon as possible."

Clawface shot a sultry glare at his apprentice. "Just trying to have a little fun," he spat. Perhaps Rusty was being a little too hopeful, but he imagined that Clawface was being sincere about "just trying to have fun". _Maybe these cats aren't really as bloodthirsty as I thought_, Rusty wondered. _Maybe they're just… misunderstood_. Glancing at the broad shoulders of Brokenstar, Rusty decided that he wasn't too sure about _him_ just yet.

Rusty felt as if they had been walking for moons before a prickly barrier of brambles appeared in front of the group and Brokenstar announced that they had arrived at the ShadowClan camp. The ginger tom couldn't help his paws prickling with excitement as he followed Brokenstar and Littlepaw through a tiny path that led through the brambles. The babbling of a large number of cats reached Rusty's ears before a large clearing opened up before him. His emerald eyes grew wide as he took in the scene. He hadn't thought that the wild cats lived in such an organized environment; the atmosphere seemed surprisingly friendly. That is, until the innumerable number of cats caught his scent and almost immediately stopped what they were doing. Countless pairs of glistening eyes burned into his pelt.

"Who's this disgusting mangepelt?" growled a pale brown tabby she-cat from beneath a large, prickly-looking bramble bush. Rusty's chest filled with embarrassment. He wished Brokenstar would've allowed him to wash himself before entering the camp full of judging eyes.

"This is ShadowClan's newest apprentice, Lizardstripe!" Brokenstar announced almost cheerfully. Hushed murmuring erupted throughout the clearing as more cats appeared in the clearing from beneath bushes and behind brambles to get a closer look at the newcomer. Rusty shuffled closer to Littlepaw, seeking comfort. He expected the apprentice to uncomfortably shift away, but Littlepaw instead allowed Rusty to get closer to him, albeit slightly awkwardly. Nevertheless, Rusty felt relieved.

Brokenstar continued, "As you all know, ShadowClan needs more warriors to aid us in our war for new territory, especially since the loss of two of our apprentices, Mosspaw and Volepaw." At this he nodded toward a mottled white tom, who stared back at Brokenstar unblinkingly. Rusty saw sorrow in the cat's deep amber eyes, but also a hint of something else—something darker. _Perhaps he was their father_, Rusty guessed.

"But, of course," Brokenstar persisted smugly, "I don't need to justify myself."

"Brokenstar, wait," a small ginger tabby she-cat spoke up from beneath a thorn bush. A milky scent wafted up from the hollow behind her, and Rusty noticed a tiny black-and-white kit peeking out from behind his mother. "Do we really think this cat can _replace_ Mosspaw and Volepaw?" Rusty perceived that the young queen's voice trembled on the word "replace". He guessed that she must have been close to the two apprentices before their deaths. "Look at him," she continued. "He looks skinny and weak, and I can smell his fear scent from all the way over here." Rusty heard more murmurings come from the cats around him. Some sounded hostile, while others seemed unsure.

"Dawncloud is right," Brokenstar rumbled, his eyes glinting. "Perhaps we should give young Rusty a short test before we allow him to join my Clan." _I don't want to join your Clan! _Rusty screeched in his mind. _I just want to get out of here alive and get back to my sister and my friend!_ "Let's see," Brokenstar continued, gazing around the clearing at all of his cats. His eyes stopped on a dark orange she-cat. She looked as if she had been quite the formidable warrior in her younger days, but those days were obviously close to ending. The fur on her muzzle was streaked with gray and there was a sense of tiredness in her shoulders that came with the onset of old age. "Amberleaf," Brokenstar mewed, half-purring, half-growling. "I think it's quite clear to everyone in our camp that you're getting old." Amberleaf's eyes widened and her hackles began to rise. "Now, we could send you out of the camp like all the other elders and let you die with them somewhere in the forest. But," Brokenstar's purr rumbled like a monster on the Thunderpath, "I have a better idea of what we could do with you." Brokenstar turned to Rusty. "Now is the time to show us what you're made of. I know this won't be too hard for you, as it will just be a repeat of what I know you did earlier today." Brokenstar paused, turning back towards the elderly ginger she-cat. "Rusty, I want you to kill her. Then you may join the Clan." The biting wind whistled through the camp, but the chill from the air was nothing compared to the chill in Rusty's heart.


	4. Chapter 3

What is that feeling when one has lived among other cats, but still feels completely alone? When one comes back from a hunting trip to see everyone else sharing tongues, and has to walk past them and rest in their cold den by themselves? When the days spent trying to make friends and connect with others turn into moons, and one has all but given up on any attempts at friendly conversation? When the heart becomes cracked and crumbles under the weight of moons and moons of this treatment with no hope for escape? When one realizes that one's life has nearly passed by without ever having put real value into another's life? Amberleaf was a bitter old she-cat, and she knew it. She flaunted it, in fact, through her sharp tongue and her harsh ways. Looking around at all the guilty, yet impassive faces around her, she realized that her actions hadn't lent her much love from her clanmates.

She stared menacingly at the small ginger tom that stood across the clearing next to Brokenstar. _So Brokenstar thinks I'm too old and useless to continue living in ShadowClan, does he? _Amberleaf spat, unsheathed her claws, and readied her haunches. _Well, I'll prove to him that I _deserve _to stay in this Clan. _What Dawncloud had said earlier was right-the young tom was skinny and weak. _This'll be easy_. With a confident yowl, she leaped into the air and barreled into the tom, knocking him over. Immediately, his fear scent filled Amberleaf's nostrils. She would've cackled had she not clamped her mouth down on his foreleg. The taste of mud and drying blood filled her mouth, almost making her gag. Screeching, the tom uselessly batted his paws against Amberleaf's thick, ginger pelt. _I'm winning_, she thought proudly. Her chest began to burn due to the energy that she was exerting. She stubbornly tried her best to ignore it. _Don't let them see how tired you've already gotten, _she told herself. _This is my time to prove myself. I am strong. I can beat this little rat. _

…

Rusty had been trying to think of a way to convince Brokenstar to not make him kill the old she-cat when she had caught him by surprise by attacking first. She may have had wispy gray furs on her muzzle, but there was no doubt that she fought with the ferocity of a much younger cat. After a couple unsuccessful attempts at pulling away from her enormous weight, Rusty managed to get a glimpse of her amber eyes. They were hard and stony, without a glint of sympathy or remorse. _How many life-or-death situations could I possibly go through in a day? _Rusty thought frantically, thrashing violently under the she-cat.

After a few more heartbeats of thrashing proved to be futile, he realized that he might be able to use his small size to his advantage, considering that this cat was probably used to fighting older, and therefore larger, cats. But first, he would have to find a way to loosen her grip on his foreleg. He started by agilely dodging a few blows from her, which made her the slightest bit unsteady. Right before she placed her paws back on the ground to balance herself, he began jerking his foreleg to and fro. Her head shook side to side as she refused to relinquish her grasp on his leg. After a couple more moments of the shaking, she dizzily lessened her grip for one heartbeat. It was at that moment that Rusty dragged his foreleg out of her yellowed jaws. Rusty then vaulted backwards, blood dripping from his new wounds. He didn't allow himself to acknowledge the pain that flared in his flesh—it would only distract him from the battle.

"You disgusting dirtpelt!" she yowled. "Get back here so I can claw your eyes out!" Growling, she lurched towards him. He weaved away from her once again, right before her teeth snapped at the empty air where he had just been.

Amberleaf's amber eyes were not, as her name suggested, comparable to the peacefulness of a leaf. They were instead like two blazing fires, full of rage and ready to burn him to the ground. Rusty used his lighter weight and greater dexterity to dodge a heavy blow from his opponent. Not a heartbeat later, he reciprocated by leaping toward her and savagely clawing her nose. He jumped away from her as quickly as he had come, but not before she landed a quick blow to his ear. Before the she-cat could find a way to attack again, Rusty scuffed the muddy dirt below him and launched it into the she-cat's face. While she howled and tried to shake the earth out of her eyes, Rusty frantically tried to scrape some ideas together of what to do next.

_Should I really try to _kill _her? _The ginger tom wondered, hesitating a fox-length or two away from the violent she-cat. _I've already killed a cat once, today, _Rusty remembered dejectedly. _But that was an accident, right? I didn't realize the flowerpot would kill him, right? _Just then, Amberleaf, mud dripping from her eyes, rushed toward Rusty. The tom could almost hear the dark determination in every thump of her paws on the earth. Rusty tensed up and stood lightly on his paws, ready to side-step at just the right moment. However, a yowl from the entrance tunnel surprised Rusty and made him stumble, fur on end, right into Amberleaf's grasp.

"What is going on her-" Rusty was only able to hear that much from the yowl before the ginger she-cat pushed him over and started clawing at his back.

"Amberleaf, stop!" A new, authoritative voice rang out across the ShadowClan camp. A large white tom materialized behind Amberleaf and forcefully pulled the old she-cat off of Rusty, gripping her neck with his teeth. Rusty panted and stared at the tom's giant black paws, thankful that the cat seemed to be on his side. Several cats that seemed to be around his age entered the camp through the bramble tunnel, accompanied by older warriors. _Those cats must be apprentices_, Rusty guessed. They stared at him curiously, but not unkindly, until a long-legged she-cat wrinkled her nose at him. Rusty was reminded of the fact that he was covered in mud, blood, and Twolegplace grime. Once again, Rusty realized that he was not exactly giving a good first impression to these wild cats.

"Stop, Blackfoot!" Brokenstar ordered to the white tom who had rescued Rusty. "Throw Amberleaf back! She has a battle to fight."

The white tom, Blackfoot, glanced down at the ginger she-cat. She was lying on the ground below him, panting. She struggled to breathe as blood poured down from the scratch in her nose. She looked exhausted and broken. _Have I beaten her? _Rusty wondered, surprised.

"She looks like she is in no condition to fight, Brokenstar," Blackfoot responded. "She has already been defeated."

"Well, Rusty," Brokenstar snarled, turning his head toward the ginger tom, "it's time for you to finish what you started."

Rusty noticed alarm flare in Blackfoot's gaze, which was echoed in the gazes of the apprentices and mentors that had just arrived in the camp. _They must have guessed what Brokenstar's making me do. _However, they said nothing and simply backed away from the old ginger she-cat. Rusty stumbled forward, wondering what to say to Brokenstar-if there was anything he _could _say to Brokenstar-that would fix the mess he'd gotten into. Rusty knew that he didn't want to kill this cat, despite her seeming to have no qualms over killing him.

"Wait." A voice from behind Rusty stopped him in his tracks. Thankful that the mew had interrupted him before he had to decide what to do about Amberleaf, he turned around to see who it was. A dark gray she-cat with orange eyes padded toward Rusty, Brokenstar, and Amberleaf. "We shouldn't kill her, Brokenstar." Surprised murmurs rippled throughout the camp as the she-cat directly defied her leader.

"Why do you challenge me, Yellowfang?" Brokenstar snarled, stalking up to meet the gray she-cat.

"Wouldn't it be better to let her live and simply exile her?" responded the she-cat, who Brokenstar had called Yellowfang, with a slight growl in her voice. "She will live out the rest of her days knowing that she was defeated by a mangy little kitten," Yellowfang spat.

Brokenstar tilted his head to the side and looked down at a furiously scowling Amberleaf. "How embarrassing," he chuckled. "But, it is necessary for her to die," the large tom mewed in an obviously fake regretful voice. Brokenstar nodded toward Rusty. "It's a part of his initiation."

Amberleaf scowled at Rusty. "Just kill me already, you sorry piece of crowfood," she snarled. Rusty looked deeply into her eyes, expecting to find the same burning hate that he had seen earlier. However, the ginger tom was surprised to find a foggy tiredness in her amber gaze. "Well?" she mewed. She bared her teeth, contorting her face into an angry grimace. The foggy look in her eyes disappeared.

"Brokenstar, listen to her," Yellowfang urged. "She wants to die. You don't want to give her what she wants, do you?" The gray she-cat paused, letting her words sink in. "Let her live," she snarled. "Killing her will just take away her pain."

Brokenstar wavered, creating a void of silence in the hollow that was so tense that Rusty felt he could almost scrape it with his bloodied claws. Finally, the dark brown tabby stood up and announced, "Amberleaf will live in exile. She may never return."

The gray she-cat, Yellowfang, let out a breath that she had been holding in. Once Brokenstar turned away to consult with one of his warriors, Rusty noticed a sense of relief appear in Yellowfang's eyes as she looked down with pity upon Amberleaf. He realized that the gray she-cat knew exactly how to manipulate Brokenstar, as she had just convinced him to spare Amberleaf's life. By the time the ShadowClan leader had turned back, Yellowfang had resumed her air of arrogance and spite.

"Alright, I've already decided, Amberleaf," rumbled Brokenstar, poking the old she-cat with a huge claw. "Get up and get out."

Amberleaf got to her paws and strutted defiantly towards the bramble tunnel, limping slightly. She didn't look back. The last that the ShadowClan cats and Rusty saw of her was her dark orange tail, held up high and brushing the overhanging leaves of the tunnel.

A hush fell over the entire camp before it was broken a few heartbeats later by Brokenstar. "Well, now that _that's _over," he began, "I believe it's time to give young Rusty his apprentice name and a mentor." He calmly padded up to Rusty and then turned towards the rest of the Clan at the ginger tom's shoulder. "From now on, you shall be known as Firepaw, to represent the destruction that you will help us bring to the other Clans." Firepaw uncomfortably stared at the ground. "Your mentor will be…" The ShadowClan leader trailed off as he gazed at the faces of each of the possible mentors in the Clan. "Your mentor will be Russetfur." A ginger she-cat looked up at Brokenstar, her mouth falling open and her eyes widening with shock. He nodded, signaling that the announcement was over, and walked away towards a small hollow among the roots of a large oak tree. _Is that it? _Rusty thought wonderingly. _Just that, and now I'm a ShadowClan cat?_

"Welcome to ShadowClan, Firepaw." The sudden voice at Firepaw's shoulder made him jump. He turned towards the source and saw that it was the ginger she-cat, Russetfur. She must have approached Firepaw while he was paying attention to Brokenstar. The she-cat sighed. "I'm sorry about… well, pretty much everything that's happened so far. That would sum it up." She flicked her tail. "It was pretty unlucky for you to join us while a hare-brained cat like Brokenstar is in power." Firepaw was briefly shocked that she was speaking so nonchalantly about how crazy Brokenstar was. It didn't seem like that kind of talk would be something that the large tabby would tolerate in his own camp. Russetfur continued with her speech, rolling her eyes. "And he didn't even give you a proper apprentice ceremony." She shook her head. "Well, I'll make sure to teach you how to survive this place, don't you worry. We're great cats, once you get to know us." She winked at him. "Good-looking, too." She paused and tilted her head. "You don't really talk much, do you, Firepaw?"

Firepaw flicked his ears, still unaccustomed to his new name. He also felt a bit intimidated by Russetfur's big personality. "I'm just… trying to get used to everything, I guess."

Russetfur nodded sympathetically. "Yeah, I understand how ShadowClan can seem a little overwhelming first. Trust me, I know! I was a newcomer, like you, once."

"Really?"

"Yep." Russetfur nodded heartily. "Came from the Twolegplace, myself. It was a dirty, stinky area—nothing compared to the marshy-woodsy places in ShadowClan."

"Hey, I came from that Twolegplace, too!" Firepaw mewed excitedly.

Russetfur crinkled up her nose exaggeratedly. "That would explain the stench." The she-cat laughed in response to Firepaw's scowl. "Aw, come on, I was just joking, Firepaw!" She flicked his ear with her tail. "You should lighten up if you're gonna stay here and live with us. ShadowClan cats are known throughout the entire forest for their smart mouths, so you better get used to it!" Her voice was sharp, yet warm as well. Despite her gentle teasing, Firepaw already felt close to the young warrior.

Russetfur looked up at the night sky. "It's late. Let's get you to bed and we can start your warrior training in the morning."

"Alright," Firepaw mewed, a spark of excitement flickering in his heart.

"Hey, it looks like your little friend is waiting for you outside the apprentice den." Russetfur nodded toward a hollow sheltered by a prickly-looking bramble bush. The tiny brown apprentice, Littlepaw, sat just outside it. Russetfur amiably walked with him toward the den, bouncing energetically on her ginger paws. "Oh, I can't wait for your training tomorrow! I have so many ideas!" she mewed excitedly. "I could teach you to hunt a mouse or we could start battle training-" She abruptly cut off as she noticed the ginger tom flinch at the word "battle". Firepaw felt exhausted from his fights that day; he felt like he never wanted to fight again. Russetfur flicked her tail. "Or we could… _not _do battle training. Yet. I guess we could have you collect moss for the eld-" She quieted down again. "Nevermind," she continued uncomfortably. Her tail drooped slightly. There was a pause that lasted a couple heartbeats before they finally arrived at the apprentice's den.

"Hey, Rust—er, Firepaw," Littlepaw mewed shyly.

"Hi, Littlepaw," Firepaw responded.

"Well, I'll leave you two to it!" Russetfur exclaimed, regaining her positive demeanor. She turned and started padding away before turning her head back towards Firepaw. "I hope you have a nice sleep in your den, Firepaw! Oh, and watch out for the snakes!" Firepaw's hackles began to rise in fear before he saw the look on Russetfur's face. He could still hear her cackles from all the way across camp as he turned his head into the den.

"Russetfur is one… _unusual_ cat," Firepaw mewed to Littlepaw. The ginger tom wasn't sure, but he could've sworn he heard his friend giggle.

"That's for sure," the brown tom responded. "At least she's nice, though. Unlike some." His tail drooped.

Firepaw's heart lurched at the dejected-looking apprentice. "I—uh—I'm sorry, Littlepaw-"

"I'll show you around the den," Littlepaw interrupted. He shook himself and turned around into the hollow. "You can meet the other apprentices, unless they're sleeping, that is."

Firepaw followed his friend into the apprentice's den. On the outside, the small hollow looked prickly and uncomfortable, due to the brambles that guarded it. On the inside, however, it felt warm and soft and safe. Each nest was lined with soft pine needles and moss. Firepaw could tell that most of the apprentices were already asleep, so he padded carefully until he found a nest that was empty, right next to one that was covered in Littlepaw's scent.

"Firepaw," Littlepaw whispered from a mouse-length away. The ginger tom turned toward him. Littlepaw sat next to another brown tom who was slightly larger than he was. The tom was busy shuffling through his nest, looking for something. "This is my brother, Brownpaw."

"Nice to meet you, Brownpaw," Firepaw whispered.

Brownpaw absently looked up from his nest. There was a stray pine needle hanging haphazardly on his nose. He nodded at Firepaw without saying a word and went straight back to digging through his nest. Littlepaw padded next to Firepaw and shrugged. "When we first became apprentices, he went to sleep with a thorn in his nest and woke up with scratches all over himself. Now he searches for thorns in his bedding every night before bed."

"Do you often find thorns in your bedding?"

"Not all the time," Littlepaw responded. "I'm sure you'll be okay." Littlepaw lay down in his nest and yawned. "Good night, Firepaw." The ginger tom did the same as his new friend and curled up in his soft bedding. His aching muscles welcomed the soft embrace of his mossy nest.

"Good night, Littlepaw. Goodnight, Brownpaw," he whispered. No response came from the odd brown tom. Too tired to shrug or even lick himself clean after his long and stressful day, Firepaw fell right into sleep. Almost immediately, he was leaping through the cool air of a forest, chasing all kinds of prey. He didn't remember to even give a thought about Princess and Smudge, who remained in the Twolegplace, starving and losing hope.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Rusty purred contentedly as he woke, basking in the warm sunlight of the morning. He briefly wondered whether he should open his eyes yet, but quickly decided against it. Instead, the tom stretched out a single ginger paw and, and after releasing the slight tension in his muscles from being curled up tightly all night, he snuggled back into his makeshift nest. Several calm heartbeats later, Rusty grimaced uncomfortably as the sunlight seemed to grow even hotter. His green eyes flicked open and his hackles began to rise—it felt like he was burning. Suddenly, yowls erupted around him.

_Fire! Fire!_

Rusty leapt to his paws and coughed as thick, gray smoke entered his lungs.

_Get up! Fire!_

A very familiar voice screeched from right behind him. Rusty twisted around, but found that no one was there.

_Come on! Fire! _

The desperate howls reverberated in Rusty's head. He turned out of the hollow and raced through the smoke. The shrieks were echoing from all around him, and yet there were no cats to be found. _Where is everyone?_ Rusty yowled in his brain. _What do I do? What do I do?_" All of a sudden, an unseen force pushed him onto his side, legs flailing in the thick, gray air.

_Come on! Hurry!_

_What's going on? Tell me what_- Rusty yowled back, hacking in midsentence from the smoke.

"Wake up, Firepaw!"

Rusty leaped out of his nest, crashing forcefully into someone. "Where's the fire?" he yowled desperately.

The cat underneath Rusty softly batted him on the nose. "I'm talking about _you_, furball!"

"What?" His heartbeat slowed as he realized that the familiar-looking brown tom was acting completely calm.

"Your name, remember? You're Firepaw now," the tom laughingly mewed.

Firepaw shook his head, trying to regain his composure. "Right."

The brown tom got to his paws and shook himself. Once their eyes met, Firepaw remembered the cat's name.

"Well," Littlepaw mewed, "if I wasn't completely awake before, then I certainly am now." He shrugged and turned around to exit the apprentice den, signaling with his tail for Firepaw to follow him. "All the other apprentices are already awake and their mentors are receiving their assigned duties from the deputy, Blackfoot." He nodded toward the center of the camp, where the large white tom stood surrounded by several cats.

"Assigned duties?" Firepaw groaned. His muscles still ached from the long series of misadventures that had occurred the previous day.

"Don't worry, Firepaw!" Littlepaw mewed brightly. "It's only your first day as an apprentice, so I'm sure Blackfoot won't give you anything too hard!" The two toms had almost arrived at the crowd of warriors around Blackfoot before a mew erupted from behind them.

"Look who finally decided to show up!" Before Firepaw could turn around to see who was speaking, some cat leaped on top of him, growling and wrestling him to the ground. Firepaw's hackles immediately rose, and he clawed at the ground underneath the weight. He was about to let out a fearful yowl before the slight tinkling of laughter reached his ears. He turned over and groaned as he recognized the green eyes of his mentor, Russetfur, above him.

"Gotcha, sleepyhead!" The she-cat cheerfully hopped off of Firepaw, allowing him to get to his paws. Sensing another cat approaching from behind him, the ginger tom quickly turned his head to see who it was.

"Ah, I understand now," the deputy, Blackfoot, rumbled, padding up to the group. He nodded at Russetfur, laughter in his eyes. "I was wondering why you slinked away from the rest of us right when you noticed your apprentice was awake."

The young ginger she-cat shrugged coyly. "What can I say? I can never let a good prank go to waste!"

"So what are our duties for today, Blackfoot?" asked a black she-cat from behind the deputy. Seeing how young she looked, Firepaw guessed that she was another of the apprentices.

"That's Darkpaw," Littlepaw confirmed. "She's one of the older apprentices. Her mentor, there-" he nodded at a gray tom who was sitting patiently next to the she-cat—"is named Wolfstep." Firepaw recognized Clawface, who was Littlepaw's battle-scarred mentor, standing next to the pair.

Blackfoot gazed at the three mentors and their apprentices. "How about you all go to the Burnt Sycamore?" he mewed. Nodding at Russetfur, he continued, "The hunting's usually easy there, especially in this season, so it will be a good place to assess your new apprentice's abilities." The deputy then turned to the gray tom. "Wolfstep can lead."

"Sounds good," Wolfstep responded, padding toward the thorn tunnel.

"My first training session with my own apprentice! Oh, I'm so excited!" Russetfur practically pranced out of the camp, with Firepaw dashing behind her to keep up. At the mouth of the thorn tunnel, the she-cat abruptly stopped and glared at him, although her twitching whiskers gave away the fact that she was joking. "You better make me look good out there!" she growled.

"Get a move on, Russetfur!" complained Clawface from behind the pair. "The sleeping cat misses the rat!"

"Yeah, whatever, Clawface." Russetfur rolled her eyes as she exited the tunnel. "Hey, you should tell that to Firepaw, not me!" She nudged the ginger tom playfully. "He was the one who was planning on snoozing 'til sunhigh!"

"Yeah, yeah," Firepaw grumbled. Despite acting grumpy, the ginger tom's heart felt lighter than it had in moons. He was genuinely enjoying his new friends and the playful bickering that he shared with his mentor. Over the few moons that he had been alive, he had become weighed down with a continuing cycle of the awful experiences of hunger, loss, and death. Although his first encounter with Brokenstar and Clawface had felt like another weight that he would have to carry, he had eventually realized that perhaps ShadowClan life wouldn't be as bad as he had thought.

"You're awfully quiet, Firepaw." Littlepaw padded up to the ginger tom, Darkpaw trailing shyly behind him.

Firepaw shrugged. "Just thinking," he muttered.

"Well," Littlepaw turned toward his black-furred companion, "you two haven't been properly introduced yet. Darkpaw, meet Firepaw. Firepaw, Darkpaw."

The she-cat nodded politely at him, staring at the ground. She mumbled something that Firepaw couldn't quite make out.

"Sorry, what did you say?"

"I said, it's nice to meet you, Firepaw," she said meekly.

"Do you know what the other apprentices are up to?" Littlepaw asked her.

"Wetpaw-"

"My brother," Littlepaw clarified to his friend.

"—and Tallpaw-" Darkpaw continued.

"Her sister," meowed Littlepaw.

"—are both on border patrol with their mentors," finished the black she-cat. "And Brownpaw-"

"My other brother. You met him last night, remember?"

"—is in the training hollow with his mentor."

Firepaw flicked his tail in surprise. "Wow, how many more apprentices _are_ there?"

"That's all of us!" Littlepaw answered. The ginger tom could feel his heart warming as his small friend continued to chatter cheerfully. He was glad to see that the brown tom had lost most of the reservations and shyness that Firepaw had seen in him when they had first met.

After a few moments, Littlepaw's speech faded into silence- none of the apprentices knew what to say.

"So…" Littlepaw mewed. "Um… Do you have experience hunting, Firepaw?"

The ginger tom nodded. "Yeah, a little bit. Never in the forest, though. I would usually just scavenge for food in the Twolegplace-" Firepaw's heart skipped a beat as he remembered Princess and Smudge, who he had abandoned in the Twolegplace to starve when Brokenstar had forced him to join his Clan. His mouth fell open. _Uh oh_.

"Er, are you alright?" Littlepaw brushed his pelt against Firepaw's.

"Yeah. Fine," he stammered. What was he supposed to do? He didn't know what the Clan cat's reaction would be if he just ran away from the camp. _Would they run after me? Or would they not care?_ And although Russetfur and Littlepaw seemed nice now, he was unsure what either of them would do if they caught him trying to escape the camp. While it was true that both had expressed slight hints of disloyalty towards Brokenstar, would they really completely disobey their leader and let him go? _I hope Princess and Smudge are okay!_ Firepaw shook himself to try to clear his head of all the worries that were fluttering around his brain and picking at his heart like vultures.

"We're here, everyone!" announced Wolfstep quietly at the head of the patrol. Firepaw glanced up and, eyes clearing of his troubled thoughts, recognized the burnt tree from his trek to the ShadowClan camp the night before. A few scattered branches stuck up here and there from its truck, but for the most part it was just a tall trunk of the with a jagged, blackened top and crumbling bark. An unfamiliar scent of prey of some sort approached Firepaw's nostrils—it proved futile to breathe the scent in through his mouth to try to get a better grasp of what the scent belonged to.

"You smell that?" Russetfur asked him, eyes sparkling.

Rusty nodded in return, mewing, "Yes, but I don't know what it is."

"Littlepaw," Clawface started, turning toward his apprentice, "why don't you show this kittypet what the scent belongs to, eh?" The larger brown tom nudged the smaller. "Go on, catch it. Show 'em what you've learned."

Littlepaw breathed in nervously, and then proceeded to crouch down. He slowly and silently padded forward into the shadow of the tree. He began to continue to the other side of the tree where the unidentifiable creature waited when his ears pricked: there was a rustling in the grass where the creature was located. Narrowing his eyes, Firepaw could see the grass at the side of the tree facing Littlepaw shifting slightly. After a heartbeat or two of this movement, an odd-looking green critter poked its head out of the bushy grass. It flicked a long tongue out once, twice, and then placed a tiny, three-toed foot on the dirt in front of him. He wondered what the mysterious animal was, but thought better of asking his mentor; Littlepaw still needed to catch it and Firepaw didn't want to make any noise to alert the prey to the cats' presence. His heart began to speed up as Littlepaw's eyes dilated and his tail twitched in excitement: the small tom was readying himself to leap. Littlepaw breathed in once more, and then, as if he had caught a new, exciting scent, he turned his head nearer to the opposite side of the tree with a jerk. Alerted to Littlepaw's presence by the cat's sudden movement, the skinny green creature leaped into the air and scuttled away into the marshy forest. Clawface angrily roared and gave chase, but soon gave up and turned angrily toward his apprentice.

"What was that?" he growled at Littlepaw. "Great StarClan! You _had _that lizard!"

Russetfur chuckled. "Lighten up, Clawface. Everyone gets distracted now and then. Hey, if I had a mouse for every time _I _got distracted-" Suddenly, the ginger she-cat's ears perked up at the sound of a bird's call somewhere close in the forest. "Did you hear that?" she mewed. Not waiting for an answer, she marched in the direction of the noise.

Catching up with Russetfur, Wolfstep half-jokingly mewed, "Slow down there! I thought I was the one leading this patrol."

Russetfur kept a steady pace, refusing to look back. "Maybe someday I'll listen to you!" she mewed cheerily.

"That day wouldn't happen to be today, would it?" the gray tom responded.

"Nope!" The ginger she-cat disappeared into the shadows of the trees. Clawface lumbered after the pair, softly grumbling under his breath. Firepaw, following behind the older warrior, caught the words "mouse brains", as well as a word that he did not wish to repeat. He also heard the word "sanctity", which Firepaw did not know the definition to; he was surprised that Clawface, who seemed like a cat who seemed to favor "brawn" over "brains", could use a word like that. Before he could ponder more on that subject, he was approached by a sulky-looking Littlepaw as well as Darkpaw, who was trying to comfort her friend.

"It's just like Russetfur said," she was mewing. "You don't need to worry about it."

Littlepaw hung his head. "It's not just that—I've been losing prey a lot since I became an apprentice."

"Not _that _often," Darkpaw replied comfortingly.

"More often than you!"

"I've been an apprentice longer."

Littlepaw sighed. "I'll never become a warrior."

An idea sparked in Firepaw's head. "Would it help if we tried to figure out what you need to work on?"

Firepaw's heart sank as Littlepaw shook his head. "There's nothing wrong with my hunting crouch," he started. Darkpaw's eyes met Firepaw's knowingly, remembering how Littlepaw had made a mistake by allowing his tail to twitch.

"Well…" Darkpaw interrupted.

Littlepaw continued on. "I just… I smelled something."

"Well, that much is obvious," mewed Firepaw, flicking Littlepaw with his tail in a light-hearted manner.

"I just-" Littlepaw watched his paws, embarrassed. "Promise you guys won't tell anyone?"

Firepaw and Darkpaw shared another quick glance at each other, wondering what Littlepaw seemed to be so ashamed of.

"Promise," the two cats said in unison.

Littlepaw blurted out, whispering so that the older cats couldn't hear, "I smelled comfrey growing on the other end of the tree and I remembered that Yellowfang—our medicine cat," he added as an aside to Firepaw, "was talking about how she was running out because a bunch of cats had gotten wounds and broken bones because hey it's ShadowClan, that happens to our cats a lot-"he paused to take a breath, "-and I just thought that maybe I could help her out and grab some but at that moment I remembered that I was supposed to be hunting that lizard but by then it was too late and Clawface yelled at me and now I feel bad because I can't do anything right!"

Most of Littlepaw's speech had whizzed right over Firepaw's head because the small cat had been talking so quickly, but Darkpaw seemed to have understood it. "Collecting things for our medicine cat isn't something to be embarrassed about," she mewed wonderingly. "I know plenty of warriors that have gone on missions to collect supplies for her."

"Yeah, I guess," Littlepaw responded. "But Clawface always yells at me whenever I talk about that kind of thing."

"Why are you so afraid of Clawface?" asked Firepaw. "Sure, he's a bit rough on the edges, but I'm sure he means well."

Littlepaw's sad blue eyes stared deeply into Firepaw's emerald ones. "I almost forgot," he mewed quietly. "It's only your first day here."

Firepaw's ears pricked up out of shock and curiosity about what his friend had meant. He opened his mouth to ask him but was interrupted by Wolfstep. "Alright everyone, keep quiet," the old gray tom whispered, eyes focused on a small gray bird that was scavenging for seeds or worms in the dirt. He nodded at Russetfur, giving her permission to catch it.

The ginger she-cat smirked at her apprentice. "Watch and learn!" She crouched to the ground, her paws flowing through the swampy earth towards a shadow from an overhanging tree. In a movement as smooth as falcon through the air, she fell upon the bird and killed it with a bite to the neck.

"Nice catch!" Wolfstep congratulated her.

"You don't have to tell _me_," she purred, her nose sticking up in the air. Dropping her prey to the ground, she began digging a hole in which to keep the prey until the patrol was finished hunting. Watching her burrowing a hole in the ground sparked a memory from yesterday in Firepaw's brain. The ginger cat groaned, as he realized he had forgotten about Princess and Smudge for the second time that day. _I should be worried about them! I should be planning a way for me to escape back to them!_

Clawface cut through his thoughts, growling, "I can't believe it's halfway to sunhigh and we've only caught one measly piece of prey."

"You're right, Clawface," Wolfstep mewed, throwing a glance at Russetfur. "Why don't we split into three groups, mentors with their apprentices?"

Russetfur nodded. "Let's do it!"

Clawface shrugged. "Hopefully I'll be able to teach _Clumsypaw _here how to properly catch his prey." He glared at his apprentice. "I wouldn't be too hopeful though, considering his little performance this morning."

Russetfur rolled her eyes at the scarred warrior and turned to Littlepaw. "Don't listen to that old badger. His jokes are terrible anyways, so you're not really missing out." She laughed. "I mean, did he seriously call you 'Clumsypaw'? Really? That joke's so old, the last time cats laughed at it, they had stripes and called themselves TigerClan!"

Firepaw didn't understand the joke, but all the other cats besides Clawface laughed appreciatively.

"Anyway," Wolfstep stepped in, his eyes still glinting cheerfully from Russetfur's jab, "Clawface and Littlepaw can head toward the river near the border with ThunderClan. Darkpaw and I can go to the Carrionplace, and Russetfur and Firepaw can head in this direction," he finished, pointing with his tail in the direction of the Twolegplace where Rusty had lived. The ginger tom nearly shook his head. He had thought of himself as 'Rusty' just then, again. _It's Firepaw now, remember?_ His heart beat with longing.

Clawface, looking stung from Russetfur's jab, whipped around and stalked away, an unsure looking Littlepaw following him. Right as the pair's tails disappeared among the trees, Wolfstep winked conspiratorially at Russetfur and leaped away, Darkpaw on his paws. He glanced curiously at his mentor. Were the two sharing a secret with each other or something?

"Follow me, Firepaw," Russetfur mewed to him quietly, as if she was afraid that some cat could be listening in. She started toward the Twolegplace. "And try to keep quiet."

_Should I ask what's going on?_ Firepaw wondered. _She didn't seem to mind idle chatter earlier in the hunting mission. _

Eventually the pair stopped at a small tunnel that reeked with some awful scent. Firepaw scrunched his nose up.

"I'm gonna need you to listen to me and trust me here, okay?" Russetfur mewed. Firepaw nodded, and the she-cat continued, "Okay, we're both gonna need to roll around in this fox scent."

"What?!"

"I told you to keep quiet, remember?!" Russetfur whispered forcefully at him. "Just do it, alright? This is really important!"

After a few heartbeats thought, Firepaw decided that he could trust the she-cat, despite having only known her since the night before. Also, a slight hope in his chest was kindled by an idea that Firepaw had of what Russetfur was up to. Obediently—but not exactly delightedly—Firepaw covered himself in the stench. Russetfur did the same. Now both of the cats' scents were completely indiscernible from the overwhelming scent of the fox.

"Alright, great. Now let's keep going," Russetfur whispered, continuing toward the Twolegplace. Firepaw's heart started beating quickly in excitement. _Could it be possible? Could Russetfur be helping me to sneak out of ShadowClan territory and back to my home?_

"If you're wondering if all this stuff is necessary, than your answer is, yes, it is," she paused and looked at him. "This kind of thing is technically against the warrior code."

Firepaw's paws felt light as he followed his mentor toward the Twolegplace, toward Princess and Smudge. Toward home.


End file.
